Four Spartans of the Post-Apocalypse
by M306117
Summary: Spartans never die. They're just missing in action. A ruse by ONI to maintain morale as the Covenant presses ever inwards to Earth but for some, it's the truth. In 2545, four Spartans on a routine mission vanish without a trace according to UNSC records. The reality? They simply traded one fight for another, one fought between a Bull and a Bear over a single city.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: ****I don't own Fallout or Halo. They belong to Bethesda and Bungie/Microsoft/343 Industries respectively.**

Chapter One

**1012 HOURS, MAY 24, 2545 (MILITARY CALANDER) \ LAMBDA AURIGAE SYSTEM, TARGET AREA GURKHA, PLANET ROOST**

Stars exploded across SPARTAN-B124's vision as his long range orbital insertion pod touched down, metal and stealth coating crumpling under the impact as it came to an abrupt and jarring stop, forcing all the air from his lungs.

Training took over and Scott pried open the deformed shell of the drop pod and took a step outside, taking in the brown and dreary landscape of Roost, an Outer Colony that was quickly becoming a hot bed of Insurrectionist activity as the UNSC-Covenant war continued to escalate.

Only it shouldn't be. His briefing had made it clear that Roost was a tropical planet, boasting lush jungles and clear blue skies. Not dull and depressing brown tones. Something was wrong.

Instinct and training made Scott drop to a crouch, rifle drawn, and sprint to the nearest form of protection in sight, a shallow depression behind a rock. He skidded to a silent halt behind it and flattened himself to the ground, tensed in anticipation of incoming fire as the outer layers of his Semi-Powered Infiltration armour came online and faded to match the rock, letting Scott blend in with the surrounding.

The Semi-Powered Infiltration armour, colloquially shortened to SPI, was an experimental armour system created by the UNSC, almost exclusively used by SPARTAN-IIIs, that was able to mimic the textures and colours of its surroundings by way of hardened photo reactive panels on the outer layer of the armour. It protected him from more small arms fire than standard ODST and Marine equipment, though armour piercing or sniper rounds would punch through it without too much difficulty, but was particularly susceptible to plasma bolts. The system could only take a few glancing blows before it was rendered useless.

It was part of the reason why it was focused on stealth rather than power, and why SPARTAN-IIIs always worked as a team on operations. You can't hit what you can't see, and if by some miracle you were found, a teammate would be able to use the distraction to take out the gunner.

As Scott lay behind the rock, three dots on his displayed winked into existence.

To his right was SPARTAN-B040, Joan, and to his left were SPARTANS-B110 and –B299, Jack and Claire respectively. His teammates, Fireteam Kilo.

Scott blinked and brought up his TACMAP, eyes widening momentarily in surprise and worry when he didn't see a live feed of the drop zone, something that should have been there the moment he touched down. A number of reasons ran through his mind as to the lack of a feed. The STARS, small tactical satellites the size of a baseball, may not yet be online, or something was blocking their view of the drop zone. Or they had been detected and destroyed.

He pushed that thought out of his mind, focusing back on the mission.

Fireteam Kilo had been chosen to make landfall on the Outer Colony of Roost to perform reconnaissance ahead of a larger Marine Taskforce that was en route to quell the growing Insurrectionist faction on the planet before it could get big enough to be considered dangerous.

They had been launched six hours ago from the UNSC _Pillar of Autumn _while it was still in Slipspace, suffering through a bone rattling ride through Slipspace in specially designed drop pods and then fighting off nausea as they transitioned back to normal space before going through the fiery re-entry and final rough landing.

It struck Scott as odd that the UNSC, and ONI in particular, would deploy four Spartans on such a low risk mission and against an enemy that was nowhere near as dangerous as the Covenant, a religious alien alliance fixated on erasing humanity from the universe. But Lieutenant Ambrose, the man behind training the SPARTAN-IIIs, had specially selected them for this mission himself, and neither Scott nor the rest of Kilo could ever say no to the man that had given them a chance to take the fight to the Covenant.

The three dots on his TACMAP edged closer to Scott's position, prompting the Spartan to rise to one knee, rifle tucked firmly against his shoulder. It was an MA5K, a carbine version of the venerable MA5B issued to mainline Navy and Marine forces, boasting a lighter weight and slimmer profile but only half the magazine capacity, carrying only thirty 7.62mm rounds instead of sixty.

A digital ammo counter built into the frame of the gun confirmed that there were thirty rounds, as did its cousin in Scott's HUD as he swept the area in front of him.

No signs of any threats, though he did see a great deal of devastation. Scorched earth dotted a landscape littered with rocks and stumps of trees, a sense of gloom hanging in the air a gust of wind kicked up a plume of dust.

Scott tracked it and looked over his shoulder at the sound of gravel being crunched underfoot, seeing a faint ripple in the outline of a person approach him, making deliberate movements so he could see them. Even without checking his HUD, Scott could tell by the height and broad shoulders that it was Jack, Kilo-4, the CQC expert.

He swiped two fingers over his faceplate, the traditional Spartan smile which Scott returned.

Soon after, Joan, Kilo-3, and Claire, Kilo-2, arrived. They specialised in long range sniping and heavy weapons respectively, but were carrying MA5Ks, as was Jack. This was a simple recon mission, not a direct assault, and their weapons were for defensive purposes only. Each Spartan carried a little over a month's worth of supplies on them, scavenged from their drop pods and stowed in rucksacks.

When they were all assembled, Scott gave a series of hand signals directing them to set up a perimeter.

'Any of you picking up SATCOM?' he whispered over TEAMCOM, making sure it was on the lowest power setting that could reach the rest of Kilo as they assumed conceal positions in the rocks around him without going any further and give their location away. Their mission called for radio silence as much as possible.

'No.' Jack whispered back. 'TACMAP is down, too.'

'Same here.' Joan said.

'And me.' Claire added. 'Shouldn't STARS be online by now?'

'It should.' Scott said as he scanned the area. This definitely wasn't Roost. The lack of thriving vegetation confirmed as much. So where were they? 'Check your gear again. Maybe it's malfunctioning.'

The chances of their SPI armour suffering a glitch were low. To have four simultaneous failures before the mission had even begun was unheard of.

A row of green lights winked at Scott as Kilo ran a test on their COM gear.

'I've got a bad feeling about this.' Claire whispered as they went off.

On TEAMBIO, Scott saw all their pulses increase.

'Wait.' Joan said. 'Got something.'

'A signal?' Scott asked, glancing at her position in the rocks as he shut TEAMBIO down.

'No, some structures to the north.' She said. 'Looks like a city of some kind, only damaged.'

Scott shifted his attention north and squinted through a haze of dust, his faceplate automatically activating the five-times zoom.

There was a city, maybe three or four miles distant, and like Joan had said it was damaged. The buildings had some blast damage, but most of looked to be from a lack of upkeep more than anything. Windows were missing, walls had crumbled in places and only a few had roofs left.

'It can't be the primary objective.' Jack said, disbelief giving his voice an edge.

Scott concurred. 'No. It isn't.'

'So what is it?' Claire asked. 'The briefing on Roost never mentioned any derelict cities or a desert.'

'Never mentioned any men wearing faux Roman armour either.' Joan added. 'But I've got eyes on at least five of them heading our way.'

'What?' Scott deactivated the zoom and tried to spot the men Joan had seen. 'Where?'

'North, about your one o'clock position. Maybe a kilometre away but moving awfully fast.'

He turned to look where Joan had said and saw what she had described.

Five men, dressed in a crude imitation of ancient Roman armour, were jogging down an old and cracked highway that wound its way north. Scott zoomed in on them and saw large knives at their sides with only one carrying a revolver.

'They must have seen our pods come down.' He said.

'And their equipment?' Jack said.

Scott thought about it for a full second. 'No idea.'

He ducked back down behind the rock, thinking.

They had no link to the STARS, in an area that may or may not have been on Roost, with five men dressed as Roman soldiers bearing down on them. The mission called for Kilo to remain out of sight and refrain from actively engaging in combat while gathering information on their objective which, to Scott's dismay, they had no clue as to where it may be.

'Confirm you have no link to SATCOM or the STARS satellites?' Scott said over TEAMCOM. Three green lights flashed back, settling it in Scott's mind.

Kilo was on its own. Their briefing was either out of date, and that in the time it had taken to compile it Roost had suffered some sort of cataclysm, or they were on the wrong planet entirely, most likely one that was not under the UNSC's control if the five men were any indication, leaving them a few options.

One, they could follow their orders and stay out of sight until contact could be re-established or they come across orbit capable transport which could be used to reach UNSC controlled space and the planet's existence made known to ONI.

Or two, Kilo could get proactive and gather more immediate information on their current whereabouts, possibly link up with a friendly faction.

The second option made Scott uneasy. It meant going against orders and ran the risk of exposing Kilo to Insurrectionist forces, but it also held the most promise of learning where they were in a shorter time frame.

'Unknowns now five hundred metres out.' Joan announced. 'Estimate no more than three minutes until they arrive.'

'Maintain position, Kilo.' Scott ordered as he moved out from behind his rock and began moving towards the men. Uneasy or not, Scott had a duty to aid the UNSC and sitting around in the shadows would impede his progress to get back to them.

Kilo would take the more proactive approach.

'Time to meet the locals.'


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: ****I don't own Fallout or Halo. They belong to Bethesda and Bungie/Microsoft/343 Industries respectively.**

Chapter Two

**1022 HOURS, MAY 24, 2545 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \ UNKNOWN SYSTEM, UNKNOWN PLANET**

Scott approached the five men cautiously, staying low and moving slowly, his SPI armour blending in perfectly with the rocks and dirt.

As he got closer, he saw that their armour wasn't quite an exact replica of what ancient Roman soldiers had worn, looking more like sports equipment that had been given additional padding and cloth to resemble it. Four of the men wore the same basic design while the fifth, possibly their leader, boasted a thicker armour set and carried the group's only gun, a scratched and worn revolver.

Questions ran through Scott's mind. Why were these men wearing such primitive armour? Why were they carrying only one gun between five? Why was it such an antiquated design, at that? Revolvers had been phased out of use in modern militaries before humanity had even left Earth and long before the formation of the UNSC. So why were these men carrying one now?

'_Scott, are you sure about this?' _Claire whispered over TEAMCOM. '_This is going against orders.'_

'I know.' Scott said back. He didn't feel comfortable about breaking them. Kilo had been ordered to stay out of sight until follow up UNSC forces arrived, but they had been issued under the presumption that Kilo would land on the correct planet. 'Keep me covered.'

A green status light winked back at him. Scott knew that behind him, Clair and the others would be moving into positions where they had clear lines of sight on the five men. If anything went wrong, they would protect him.

He came to within ten metres of the soldiers. None of them were aware of their shadow, ignorant that they were heading straight for Scott. He took a deep breath and deactivated his camouflage system then stood up, rifle on his back and both hands empty, palms held out to the men.

'Don't attack. Friendly.' He said, hoping they actually understood and spoke English. Some colony worlds, in the beginning, often had a strong cultural influence behind them. Reach, the UNSC's primary shipbuilding yard, had a large percentage of the population that spoke Hungarian as a second language, or even first, and many names of cities came from Hungary itself.

The moment he spoke, all five men froze, caught off guard by his sudden appearance. Then just as suddenly, they drew their weapons.

Four machetes and a single revolver were brought to bear on the lone Spartan amid cries of profligate and Brotherhood coward.

Their meanings were lost on Scott, but the men's actions he understood perfectly. Training and a desire to keep living kicked in.

He jumped away from the men, hand dipping for the pistol on his thigh. Time slowed to a crawl and as Scott brought the weapon up, he saw two of the soldiers drop to the floor, a spurt of blood erupting from the sides of their heads. Kilo had seen their response and was engaging as well.

Scott levelled his gun, an M6C/SOCOM, essentially a suppressed variant of the mainline M6C, and fired twice, downing two of the three remaining targets, leaving the man with the revolver untouched.

'Hold fire.' Scott barked over TEAMCOM, lowering his aim to send a bullet tearing through the man's left knee. It disintegrated, the 12.7mm wide round tearing the leg in two, and he toppled to the ground, revolver still clutched in his hand which was still trying to aim at Scott.

The Spartan simply fired a fourth time, this time targeting the wrist. As the gun dropped to the ground, now covered in blood, Scott walked closer to the wounded and crippled soldier. 'Kilo, secure the area.'

Three green lights acknowledged him.

'Profligate.' The wounded man spat as Scott came to a halt nearly a metre from him. Despite suffering two crippling injuries and the loss of one leg, he still tried to make a reach for the knife on his belt.

'If you want to live, I suggest you stop.' Scott said, tracking his movements. It was doubtful the man could even muster enough strength to get up, let alone rush the Spartan, but it never hurt to be careful.

'You cannot scare me.' He replied, left hand awkwardly gripping the knife. It was angled to be easily accessible to the right hand but now that it was hanging uselessly, the left would have to do. All the while, Scott's pistol continued to stay aimed squarely at it. 'I have served my master Caesar and faced the full might of the Bear. I fear nothing, not even death. I embrace it, knowing I have done my part to further the Legion and its conquest of the profligate lands.'

Scott cocked his head to the side as he listened, filing everything that was being said away for further reference. 'And where might these profligate lands be?'

He spat at Scott again. 'Where else would they be? To the west, where the NCR and your pathetic Brotherhood came from. Today we took New Vegas. Tomorrow, we will begin preparations to take the rest of California. You cannot stop us.' With that, he drew the knife, more a machete, and lunged at Scott who responded by stepping back.

'What do you mean, 'California'?' Scott said. He stepped forwards and brought his armoured boot down hard on the hand holding the machete, smashing the bones and causing the man to howl in pain. 'What do you mean?'

'California.' The man grunted, fighting through the pain. 'Where America stops and the polluted ocean of the Pacific begins, where the NCR clings to the ideals of the Old World, where the Legion will finally stop in its march to glory.' He tried to yank his arm free but only succeeded in pulling his arm out of its socket.

Scott looked down on him, contemplating what had been said.

He knew of only a single place which contained America, California and the Pacific in one location, which led to two trains of thoughts, one highly unlikely and one practically impossible.

One, they had arrived on a planet that had places named almost exactly like the ones back on the home world of humanity. That was the highly unlikely thought.

Two, somehow Kilo had landed on Earth. This was the impossible thought for several reasons. The first was that Earth, like all Inner Colonies, was highly developed and boasted a large population. This meant that most of the planet's surface was either used up by high rise towers and housing complexes or lush forests to suit the needs of the people living there.

None of that was present. Even the desert regions were developed to some degree. All Scott could see for miles in every direction was blasted scrublands.

Second, the _Pillar of Autumn _had been nowhere near the Sol System as it deployed Kilo. At least, Scott hoped it had been.

'What are you waiting for, profligate?' Scott's prisoner hissed, his left arm unnaturally long. 'Kill me or release-'

A single silenced shot cut him off and Scott holstered his pistol, stepping away from the corpse as his camouflage system came back online. 'Kilo, we've got a problem.'

**1051 HOURS, MAY 24, 2545 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \ UNKNOWN SYSTEM, UNKNOWN PLANET**

They moved away from the drop zone towards an abandoned house some miles to the west in silence, communicating with hand signals until they were all inside.

'We can't be on Earth.' Jack said once Scott had finished relaying what he had heard from the Roman lookalike. 'There's just no way.'

Scott nodded. 'I know, but I can't think of any other planet with those names all in one place.'

'Maybe we're on a rouge planet, one where Insurrectionists took control and warped the history that was taught.' Clair offered though she didn't sound convinced herself.

'Doubt it.' Scott said, shaking his head. 'If the Insurrection was in control, they'd at least teach the population what a soldier of the enemy looks like and equip their people with decent weapons.'

He had taken a quick look at the revolver before Kilo had left. It held only five .357 calibre rounds per magazine and had to be reloaded one bullet at a time. Even if the man had drawn the gun, the small size of the bullet would have lacked the power to penetrate the outer layer of the SPI armour.

'So where can we be?' Joan asked. She was stood in front of one of the windows in the house, staring out at the desert beyond. Scott should have reprimanded her for presenting such a viable target for a potential sniper but thought against it. Joan was an expert marksman. She knew the risks of standing where she was. And if she was presenting a highly visible target, it was only because her instincts were saying it was okay to do so, that there was no rifle trained on the house.

'I don't know.' Scott said after a full second.

They could be anywhere in known or unknown space, light years from the nearest friendly planet.

'Check your mission recorders.' He ordered after another. 'Maybe something happened on the drop in and we missed it.' A long shot, but their helmet cameras would have seen everything the Spartans would have seen and remembered it in better detail. Deploying from a ship in Slipspace was hardly the most comfortable ride anyone could endure but it was long and Scott knew Kilo would have used the chance to get any sleep they could. He had, remembering only parts of the bumpy journey from the _Autumn. _If anything were to have happened, it would have happened then.

Unfortunately, it also mean watching through six hours of footage and even at four times playback speed, the process would last well over an hour for each Spartan so they drew up a rota. One of them would try to get some sleep while another spooled through their footage, leaving the last two on guard duty.

Claire went first, crouching in one corner as Jack sprawled out on a rotten couch and fell asleep. Scott took up position by the front door while Joan watched the back.

From afar, Kilo looked almost identical in their SPI armour, the shifting angular plates covering their bodies completely. It didn't help that they were, collectively, six foot tall. Jack was a few inches above this and Joan was a few inches below, with Scott and Clair taking up the middle.

They were also all fourteen years old.

Selected from an early age by ONI, each of them had been orphaned, their parents killed by the Covenant, and all had agreed to become Spartans as a means to get revenge on the aliens that had caused them so much pain.

418 of them had been assembled on Onyx but only 300 could make the cut to become Spartans, like Lieutenant Ambrose. He had motivated and guided the candidates through six years of hellish training under Senior Chief Petty Officer Mendez, the head drill instructor, covering every single aspect of battle. Marksmanship, combat First Aid, small unit tactics, target prioritising and most importantly, teamwork.

SPARTAN-IIIs operated in teams, something that been drilled into them so much by both Ambrose and Mendez that it had become an innate part of them, something they did without conscious thought. Team Kilo had been together since their training began. They knew what their strengths were, what their weaknesses were, and considered each other family, and their story was the same across Beta Company, the second wave of SPARTAN-IIIs following the pyrrhic victory of Alpha Company in 2537.

'Might have seen something.' Clair said after an hour, making Scott look over his shoulder at her and Jack wake up.

'Can you be more specific?' Scott asked.

'A light, maybe a few minutes before we exited Slipspace.' She said. 'Just a brief bit of light. That's all.'

'Slipspace doesn't have light.' Joan said from her position. 'It's just a blank void.'

'That's what my mission recorders saw.' Clair defended, turning to her teammate. 'A very brief flash of white light.'

'We'll check ours.' Scott said. 'Jack, you take a look next. Clair, watch the door. I'll sack out.' He moved to swap places with Jack but stopped, as did Jack and the rest of Kilo when their COM crackled to life, a stressed sounding man speaking over the channel.

'_This is an emergency broadcast to any and all NCR forces still within the Mojave Wasteland, authorisation code Tango-Juliet-One-Oh-Nine. You are hereby ordered to retreat back to the Mojave Outpost and help hold the line against Caesar's Legion. They cannon gain control of it. Message repeats.'_

Scott looked at Kilo as the message began again, its contents unchanged.

'We shouldn't.' Joan said.

'They're the ones those men were after.' Jack countered, standing up with his rifle drawn. 'Which means, they're probably the closest thing we've got to an ally in this place.'

'Or another hostile faction.' Clair said. 'We've got no idea how they'll react to us. Remember how our last encounter went?'

'We've got no other choice.' Scott said. 'Our supplies are limited, we're cut off from the UNSC and until we re-establish contact, we need to find a way of sustaining ourselves. This NCR might be able to help us. But if it doesn't then at least we've found a place to scavenge for food.' He turned to each Spartan in turn. 'It isn't ideal and goes against orders, but it's the best shot we've got at getting out of here as quickly as possible.'

No one said anything. 'Then it's settled.' Scott said, shouldering his MA5K. 'We'll zero in on the source of the transmission and go from there. I'll be on point. Clair, watch our backs. Jack, Joan, keep an eye out for any hostiles.' He went for the door, hand resting on the handle. 'Move out, Kilo. Time to meet the other locals.'


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: ****I don't own Fallout or Halo. They belong to Bethesda and Bungie/Microsoft/343 Industries respectively.**

Chapter Three

**1206 HOURS, MAY 24, 2545 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \ UNKNOWN SYSTEM, UNKNOWN PLANET \ NEAR MOJAVE OUTPOST**

Kilo moved quickly and quietly, heading southwest towards the source of the radio message, passing through a town that was under the control of the Legion. They gave it a wide birth. The content of the message hadn't changed since they'd first heard it and as they drew closer to the source, the sounds of a pitched battle became clear.

Rifles barked with single shots and the occasional sustained burst from a rapid fire weapon cut through the air, almost drowning out the yelled orders of the men firing them.

Scott opened a COM channel. 'This is Fireteam Kilo responding to the NCR SOS. We are approaching from the north. Can anyone hear me? Over.'

He left the line open, waiting for a response.

'_This is Ranger Jackson of the Mojave Outpost. We read you, Kilo.' _It wasn't the same man as the one on the looped message, sounding more gruff and in control. '_Which battalion are you from?'_

'None, sir.' Scott said. 'We're a non-NCR unit that came across your broadcast.' He paused. 'The Legion is hostile to us as well. We're hoping to provide assistance.'

'_Glad to hear it.' _Jackson said then yelled something to a nearby soldier. '_How many in your unit, soldier?'_

'Four, sir.'

Jackson didn't say anything for a second. '_Very well. I'll spread the word that you're coming. How will we know it's you?'_

'You'll know.' Scott said. He shut down the channel and opened TEAMCOM. 'Alright, Kilo. Our objective is to link up NCR forces. They should be expecting us. Dispersion pattern Charlie as we advance. Move in fast and silently. Go, Spartans!'

As one, the four of them sprinted along the broken highway they had been following for the past hour, dodging wrecked and burnt out cars and passing multiple corpses. Some wore the repurposed sports equipment of the Legion but most had brown fatigues with metal inserts acting as armour, clutching wooden stocked rifles and pistols. In many cases, limbs had been hacked off.

'Jesus.' Jack said, his boot coming down in a slick of blood. 'What kind of a person does this?'

'We're about to find out.' Clair said as the road split into two, one angling to the east and one climbing a hill that was the sight of a pitched battle. 'Hostiles at twelve o'clock.

The Legion was at the base of the hill, rushing to get to the top where NCR soldiers were holding them off, just barely. It was approximately five to one in favour of the Legion in terms of manpower but the NCR had the advantage of rifles and pistols. Sadly, this was only slowing the Legion down a little.

'Ranger Jackson, Fireteam Kilo is on station and ready to assist.' Scott said over the radio.

'_Received, Kilo.' _Jackson said. '_Our troops have been told to expect a non-NCR asset. Whenever you're ready.'_

'Acknowledged.' Scott snapped his rifle up. 'Kilo is moving to engage.' He directed them forward into the fight.

They moved with surgical precision, charging up the hill and cutting down any Legion troops in their way using short, controlled bursts, their camouflage systems making them appear as a deadly desert mirage, a hazy patch of air that spat bullets with unnerving precision.

When Kilo reached the top of the hill, joining a dozen men dressed in identical armour and wielding identical weapons hiding behind sandbag fortifications, they trained their guns downrange and began picking off Legion soldiers as they tried to rush them.

Stealth no longer a concern, Scott powered down his photo reactive panels. 'Ranger Jackson, Kilo has reached the summit and is providing assistance.'

'_Received. I'm on my way to lend a hand.'_

'Understood.' The channel went dead and Scott fired a triple tap at a sprinting Legion soldier, catching the man in the forehead and sending him crumpling to the floor. He reloaded, letting the empty clip drop.

'I think we've gone against orders quite a bit, now.' Clair said offhandedly.

'Eeyup.' Jack said.

'Don't start that again, Jack.' Clair moaned over TEAMCOM, glancing at her teammate as he fired his MA5K in single shots. When he didn't respond, she sighed. 'You're not going to listen to me, are you?'

'Nope.'

Scott shook his head and brought up TEAMBIO. All of them had elevated pulses and blood pressure, but no major problems.

A soldier next to him looked Scott and the rest of Kilo up and down. 'What are you, Brotherhood?' she asked during a brief lull in the fighting.

'No.' Scott said. He switched to single shots, following Jack's example. They only carried twenty spare magazines for their MA5Ks each so until Kilo could find a suitable spot to resupply, ammo conservation would be imperative.

'Then what are you?' the soldier said, following up on her first question.

'Spartans.' Scott said, hitting a Legion soldier in the head just as he was about to throw a primed grenade. The explosive fell from his hand and rolled down the hill, detonating in a shower of shrapnel that shredded two men and wounded five more.

The woman shrugged and fired her rifle a dozen times, hitting the wounded Legion troops, then reloaded.

'Sloppy.' Joan said over TEAMCOM. 'Half those rounds were clean misses and we're what? Thirty metres from them?' She grunted under her breath. 'Maybe that's why they lost to guys with knifes and padding.'

'We don't know that they lost.' Jack said. 'We just know that the Legion has managed to push them out of a city, that's all.' He fired and managed to strike two men with one bullet, the 7.62mm round passing through the first man and hitting the one behind him, downing both. 'They could have better troops somewhere nearby.'

'Then they'd better get here soon.' Clair said, slapping a fresh magazine home. 'We've only got enough ammo for a short firefight, not a protracted battle.'

Next to Scott, Joan glanced disapprovingly at the weapons being used by the NCR. 'I'd hate to have to use their guns.' She said. 'Small calibre, no silencer, poor accuracy. They rank just above Covie tech.'

'At least ammunition would be plentiful.' Scout said, trying to find a good point to sway her.

As Kilo's sniper, Joan was often picky about what weapons she used, preferring to have those with a high accuracy, low spread, and the ability to be silenced. While this was well within the abilities of the SRS99C-S2 AM, the primary sniper rifle of choice for UNSC personnel, it could cause problems if Kilo was forced to rely on older weapons. Joan would use whatever weapon she was but would complain about it.

Scott and the others would use whatever they could without complaint, especially Jack. So long as it could fire and kill a person or alien in a matter of seconds, he was happy.

'Got eyes on a guy wearing a really weird armour set up.' Jack said, rousing Scott from his thoughts. 'Looks kind of mix and match.'

'Does he have a helmet on?' Scott asked his teammate.

Jack fired once. 'He did.'

The Spartan rolled his eyes, watching as the man Jack had seen and shot fell to the floor, the back of his head exploding into a fine pink mist as the bullet travelled through it. His armour was more reinforced than what Kilo had seen so far but not by much. A metal plate of some kind covered the chest while more metal was in place over the right arm, the design and shape suggesting it had been plucked or scavenged by the wearer from a different set of armour. Armoured boots and legs were partially covered by a dark skirt, and a crude helmet sat atop what remained of his head, a red plume running from left to right.

Two more men wearing similarly constructed armour appeared, only for Kilo and the NCR forces to put them down within a matter of seconds where they joined the bodies of dozens of their fallen comrades, blood seeping into the dusty ground and staining it a crimson red.

Scott slammed a fresh mag into his gun as a man appeared and knelt next to the young Spartan, a lever action rifle in his hands and a brown hat with a wide brim on his head.

'You Kilo?' he asked, firing off a string of shots. Unlike the woman that had been next to Scott, he managed to waste only two bullets out of seven. Then he started to reload it, quickly feeding the new rounds into a receiver on the side.

'Yes, we are.' Scott said as he recognised the voice as belonging to Jackson, the man he'd spoken to earlier. 'Are you Ranger Jackson?'

'I am.' Jackson ducked as a spear came flying towards them, Scott catching it at the last second then returned the weapon back to Legion lines, striking the man who had originally thrown it in the stomach. Clair finished him off with a well placed bullet. 'Gotta say, I'm surprised anyone would respond to that SOS we sent out. Most people in the Mojave wouldn't even help out against raiders, let alone Caesar's Legion.' He finished loading the gun and resumed aiming downhill, picking off Legion targets as they appeared. 'So don't take this the wrong way but, why the hell did you come to help us?'

'The Legion attacked us.' Scott said. 'And as we're on our own in this place, their attack on you made the NCR the closest thing we might have to an ally.' The two men each set a single round flying downrange, striking the same target as he charged the line, knife held high. 'We'll be willing to help you against the Legion in exchange for supplies and information.'

Jackson ran a gloved hand through a black handlebar moustache, thinking. 'Well, I'm not allowed to speak on behalf of the NCR but I'm pretty sure we can work something out.' He flinched as a bullet tore through the sandbag wall between him and Scott.

'Sniper.' Joan warned.

'I noticed.' Scott replied as he and Jackson scanned behind the Legion line for the shooter.

Another shot caught the soldier next to Jackson in the shoulder, throwing her to the ground.

'Got him.' Joan announced. 'He's hiding in some rocks. Engaging.'

Scott just flashed his status light green as he covered Jackson, the Ranger checking the wounded woman. The round had hit her left shoulder which was now a deep red, the blood seeping out to stain her fatigues and the ground below.

'Through and through.' Jackson said as he pulled a bandage and a syringe with a gauge on top out from a small med kit, injecting the syringe first then covered it with the bandage. Blood started to seep through that as well.

'God damn it!' the soldier said, looking down on her wound as Jackson applied a second bandage. 'I need that arm for shooting.' She winced as Jackson applied more pressure.

'You got this one, ain't you?' Jackson said as he picked up her right and made it hold the bandages in place. 'Last I checked, pistol only needs one hand to shoot, Harris.'

'I prefer rifles, Ranger.' Harris said, flexing her left hand. It responded. 'Got more range and stopping power.' She grunted and sat up, allowing Jackson to attend to the exit wound on her back.

'Target down.' Joan said.

'Ranger, how long will we have to hold the line?' Scott asked as he fitted a fresh magazine into his gun, leaving seven full ones behind. 'My team and I only have so much ammunition and I don't think your rifles have the same calibre we need.'

'Not for much longer, Kilo.' He said, handing Harris to another soldier, this one carrying a bag adorned with a red cross on the flap. 'Reinforcements from the NCR will be here within an hour, maybe two. We radioed for backup the moment we heard the Dam had fallen.'

'How long ago was that?'

'About four hours.' Jackson picked his rifle back up and assumed his place on the front line again, Scott next to him. 'The trucks should be on their way by now. When they get here, I'll have a word with the driver and see about getting you and your team back to NCR and to the NCR Army Headquarters. Sound good?'

Scott nodded. 'Yes.'

Until they had a more definitive idea on how to re-establish contact with the UNSC or even determine their location, Kilo, for the time being at least, had become a part of the NCR.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: ****I don't own Fallout or Halo. They belong to Bethesda and Bungie/Microsoft/343 Industries respectively.**

Chapter Four

**1700 HOURS, MAY 24, 2545 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \ UNKNOWN SYSTEM, UNKNOWN PLANET \ EN ROUTE TO NCR**

Several battered but serviceable flatbed trucks turned up about two hours after Kilo arrived, off loading dozens of fresh soldiers and supplies to supplement those already at the Mojave Outpost. Legion attacks had slowly whittled the dozen or so troops at the top of the hill down to half that, not including Kilo or Ranger Jackson, though the frequency and size of their attacks were decreasing just as slowly until neither side had fired a round or thrown a spear for the best part of an hour. They just held their respective lines.

Scott and the rest of Kilo took this as a blessing. Their ammunition had dropped to a quarter of what they'd started with. No one had more than six spare magazines and no idea where they could find more. The NCR rifle used a much smaller round compared to the MA5K which didn't bode well.

The thought kept floating around Scott's head as he and Kilo rode in the back of a truck, one of those that had supplied new soldiers. It bounced and rattled, shaking Kilo and a number of wound NCR soldiers that were sat in the back of the truck with them. Some wound moan with pain at each bounce, the sudden motion aggravating their injuries, but most were asleep.

Jack and Claire had slumped against each other, rifles in their laps, while Joan was leaning against the back of the truck's cab, leaving Scott the only Spartan awake.

He was watching the world go by, trying to learn as much as he could about this place. So much of it was desert, littered with the ruins of once proud and immense buildings or shacks so crudely built it was a miracle they were even standing in the first place. But at the same time, he could see signs of life. People would appear in the low light to watch the trucks go past, often waving to the soldiers or throwing them bundles of something, food most likely.

'So where did you come from?' Harris asked. She had been placed in the same truck as Kilo, her shoulder requiring more detailed medical attention than the medic present could provide, and she'd made sure to grab the spot next to Scott as the truck and the others began the journey back to a place called NCR, possibly the capital city of the NCR faction.

'That's classified.' Scott said. While Kilo had agreed to help out the NCR, they weren't a part of the UNSC. Classified or confidential information couldn't be shared with them, such as the Spartan's origin, their SPI armour or even Project: CHRYSANTHEUM, a series of procedures all Spartans underwent at the conclusion of their training to boost their physical abilities, including near-unbreakable bones and night vision alongside denser muscles to improve lifting and striking capabilities which, coupled with a three hundred percent decrease in reaction times, enabled the four Spartans of Fireteam Kilo and Beta Company as a whole to be able to go toe to toe with Covenant Elites, even at the young age of twelve.

'Alright.' Harris said. 'How about your armour? Is it pre-War, Enclave or Brotherhood?'

Scott glanced at Harris, arching an eyebrow at her choice of words. 'Pre-War?'

'Yeah, you know, from before the bombs dropped.' She said. 'Happened about two hundred years ago, America and China slugging it out to see who could fuck the planet up the most first. Ring any bells?'

Scott said nothing.

'You don't know about the Great War?' Harris said after a second of silence.

'No.' Scott lied. He'd heard the term Great War before, but only in reference to the Human-Covenant War. Certainly not something that happened two hundred years prior.

'Really?' Harris looked him full on, wincing as the truck drove over a hole in the road. 'Where have you been hiding?'

'Nowhere.' Scott answered.

Harris shook her head and sat back. 'Then your parents, or wherever it was that your ancestors lived, must have had some pretty shitty record keeping skills.'

The young Spartan didn't bother to correct her, leaning back against the bed of the truck as well. Scott thought over what Harris and the Legion soldier had said.

They were on a planet similar to Earth, evident by the names of places and some architecture, but what little technology Scott had seen was woefully obsolete compared to even UNSC technology from the first few years of interstellar colonisation in the 23rd century. The truck rattled and shook, its bodywork pitted with rust and faded paint, while every weapon Kilo had encountered used outdated rounds or crude building materials such as wood compared to their own weapons.

It made no sense at all. No UNSC colony world would be allowed to reach such a state as this, especially not Earth. It made no sense.

'Don't think so loud.' Jack mumbled over TEAMCOM. 'Some of us are trying to sleep.'

'I'm trying to figure out what happened to us.' Scott said as Harris slumped against him, snoring faintly. 'And how can I be thinking too loudly?'

'I'm psychic.' Jack said. 'Also, your foot starts tapping if it's a real doozy of a thought.'

Scott looked down to see that his foot was tapping and that it was right next to Jack's. He took it away. 'Sorry.'

'It's alright.' Jack said, bringing his own foot closer. 'One of us has to work out what's going on. Me, I'm more of a go with the flow kind of guy. So long as my gun is loaded and I've got something to fire it at, I'm good. Claire's the same.'

Scott looked at the last member of Kilo yet to be mentioned. 'And Joan?'

'She's too busy moaning about the low quality of the NCR's guns to focus on our present situation.'

'Ah, so I'm the only sane person in our team.' Scott summarised.

'Eeyup.' Jack confirmed. 'That's why you're squad leader and I'm the brawn.'

'You're more than that, Jack.' Claire said, shaking her head clear as she woke up. 'Kilo will always need gullible cannon fodder.'

'I fell for that trap once.' Jack said. 'Foxtrot was really convincing.'

'Still fell for it.' Scott said, laughing.

Jack looked away, as if hurt, but behind his mirrored faceplate they knew he was grinning.

Claire nudged Scott with her foot. 'Hey, why don't you grab some sleep? The driver said it would be about five hours to reach NCR and we've been moving for what, three hours?'

'About that, yeah.' Scott said. He didn't feel tired, but Senior Chief Petty Officer Mendez had drummed into them a particular saying: rest can be as deadly a weapon as a pistol or grenade. While the NCR seemed willing to work with them, Scott didn't entirely feel he could trust them just yet. They were an unknown, as was Kilo's current situation. Were they cut off from the UNSC completely, or was there a way to re-establish contact with them? He mentally shrugged. Worrying about it now wouldn't help him. Kilo would be meeting with the officer in charge of the NCR Army and, possibly, the leader of the NCR itself when the trucks finally arrived at their destination, and Scott would think better on some sleep rather than none.

He shuffled down into a slightly more comfortable position and closed his eyes. He was asleep within thirty seconds.

**1913 HOURS, MAY 24, 2545 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \ UNKNOWN SYSTEM, UNKNOWN PLANET \ NEAR NCR**

Scott felt someone nudge his shoulder and he snapped awake, hand on his rifle.

Claire nudged him again. 'We're here.' She held her hand out and helped Scott up to join the rest of Kilo as they stood in the back of the truck, holding onto a metal rail above their heads.

Ahead was a walled city, looking much more maintained than the one they'd seen this morning but smaller, too. None of the buildings visible rose above a few stories.

Harris pulled herself up and watched with the Spartans as the city came closer.

'There she is.' Harris said. 'NCR. Capital of the New California Republic.'

'Isn't that a bit redundant?' Joan said, half turning to face the injured soldier. 'Naming the city after the organisation? Why not call it NCR City of something?'

'Who knows?' Harris said. 'It used to be called Shady Sands. Guess you could argue it still is but, I don't really know or care. I was born in the Hub to the south.'

Joan turned back as the truck pulled into the city, passing by two wooden gates, and continued to another walled area containing several small buildings and several large ones clustered around a big courtyard. To Scott, it looked like a military base.

The truck came to a slow stop next to one of the bigger structures, a garage, and dozens of men and women with stretchers and medical equipment rushed over, helping the wounded get off. Harris followed, leaving Kilo alone in the back of the truck.

From the cab, Jackson climbed out and motioned for them to join him. Picking their weapons up and holstering them, Kilo jumped from the truck onto the ground.

'I've radioed ahead to NCR Army high command.' Jackson said once they were assembled. 'Colonel Moore is still coordinating the defensive line at the Mojave Outpost but from the sounds of things, she's got it pretty much handled. I reckon she'll be along in a few minutes to speak with you. Come on, I'll take you to her office.'

Jackson took them into the largest structure on the base and up a flight of stairs to a decent sized office sat on the west side of the building.

'If it's alright, I'll stay with you until Colonel Moore comes.' He said. 'No offense, but we're not about to leave four unknowns alone in the NCR Army headquarters.'

'That's fine, Ranger.' Scott said. 'Kilo, form up.'

The four Spartans formed a line and came to parade rest, hands clasped behind their backs and feet spread apart in front of the room's single desk, Jackson leaning against a wall to watch them in the light from the setting sun as it streamed in through wide windows.

Minutes ticked by and Scott watch the little clock on his HUD creep closer to half past seven when the door leading into the room opened and a woman with short light brown hair entered, carrying a thick file and the grime from several days of hard fighting.

She sat down behind the desk and dismissed Jackson, the Ranger closing the door behind him.

'Before we begin, I just want to say thank you for your help at the Mojave Outpost.' Moore said once she was seated. 'It kept the Legion from overrunning our one route into the Mojave.'

'Thank you, ma'am.' Scott said.

'Now, onto business.' Moore said. 'I'm Colonel Moore, ranking officer of the entire NCR Army. Ranger Jackson informed me that the four of you responded to his SOS broadcast and offered to help against the Legion in exchange for supplies, correct?'

'Yes, ma'am.' Scott said, nodding once.

'What kind of supplies?'

'Ammunition and food, mostly.' Scott said. 'But we'd also like to access historical archives if possible.'

Moore cocked an eyebrow. 'Why historical archives? What do you want them for?'

'For information on this place.' Scott said. 'We've been issued with either the wrong intelligence or sent to the wrong place entirely. With that information, we could work out which way it is to the correct place or update our intel.'

'Well, I think I can save you the trouble, Kilo.' Moore said. 'You're currently stood in NCR, the capital city of the New California Republic, which is located in the state of California on the western coast of America. If you want me to be really specific, I'll say we're on Planet Earth, third rock from the sun and the only planet with intelligent life on it in the Solar System. That answer your question?'

It did, but raised so many more. How could this be Earth? If it was, how could it have gotten like this? Where were the UNSC and UEG, the Unified Earth Government? Why was the technology so outdated and obsolete?

Kilo glanced at each other uneasily. Something was very wrong.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: ****I don't own Fallout or Halo. They belong to Bethesda and Bungie/Microsoft/343 Industries respectively.**

Chapter Five

**2023 HOURS, MAY 24, 2545 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \ UNKNOWN SYSTEM, UNKNOWN PLANET \ NCR**

Jack paced from one end of the room to the other, hands clenching and unclenching, while the rest of Kilo sat on threadbare beds, their guns and helmets next to them.

'How can this be Earth?' he asked for the umpteenth time since leaving Moore's office.

She had given them access to one of the spare bunks dotted around the camp and issued orders for no one but authorised individuals to meet with them. A single young soldier bearing four boxes of food labelled Cram had shown up an hour ago then left once Scott had taken the food from him, once again leaving the Spartans isolated.

'I don't know.' Scott said, tracking his teammate as he walked to and fro. 'For all we do know, this is a rogue planet that suffered from infighting and tried to blow itself up as a result, with the only surviving records coming from malfunctioning data stores or a warped history taught by the government after it split from the UNSC.'

'And the flash during Slipspace?' Claire asked, making the others look at her. 'We all saw it. Anybody got any ideas?'

They all shrugged.

'Maybe it was a malfunction or a glitch.' Joan offered as Jack resumed pacing. 'I mean, our software was updated before we dropped. It could be more susceptible to radiation than before.'

'If it is, then why didn't our gear foul up the moment we dropped from the _Autumn_?' Scott countered. 'Everything was fine until just before we transitioned back and even then, it was a bright flash. Not our gear. It came from outside the pod.'

'So what was it?'

'No idea.' Scott said, scratching his head. 'I can't understand Slipspace at the best of times. This is beyond me.'

'Alright, so what do we do?' Jack asked. 'Our COM options are nil. We don't know if the UNSC has any ships nearby or if there's a means to beam a message to them. We're effectively stuck.'

'At least we're not on our own.' Scott said. 'The NCR is willing to help us out.'

'For now.' Joan said. 'We don't know if they'll actually help us or if this is just a ruse to get a look at our gear.' She looked down at her arms and the photo reactive panels that covered them. 'You're taking a big risk, Scott.'

'I know.' He said. 'But Jack's right. Our COM options are non-existent and we haven't got a means of resupplying ourselves. How else are we supposed to keep going until UNSC forces show up?'

'What if they never do?' Claire said. 'If this is a rogue planet and it's been two hundred years since this Great War happened, why hasn't the UNSC found it and begun relief efforts?'

No one answered, falling into an uneasy silence.

'What if this is Earth, just not the Earth we know?' Jack said quietly after several moments. 'What if we've travelled to a parallel universe?'

Again, no one answered at first, staring at Jack as he kept pacing.

It was Joan who said what they were thinking.

'Are you out of your mind?' she whispered. 'We can't have travelled to a parallel world. It's just not possible. That's like something out of science fiction.'

He stopped and looked at her. 'You fight aliens and live on spaceships. Is it really too much of a leap to think it's possible?' Jack turned to Scott and Claire. 'What do you guys think?'

'It's credible.' Claire said.

'But not by much.' Scott said. 'If we are in a parallel universe, how did we travel here?'

'Search me.' Jack said, shrugging. 'I just came up with an alternate theory to this being a rogue planet. Haven't got a clue how it happened, if it happened.'

'Either way, we're stranded.' Scott said, standing up to address Kilo. 'If this is a rogue planet, then the question we need to ask is whether the pre-War government was hostile to the UNSC and if that sentiment has been passed down to the survivors, then act accordingly.'

'And if this is an alternate Earth?' Claire asked.

'We integrate ourselves as best we can into it.' he said. 'Our duty may be to the UNSC, but it is also to humanity. We protect it, no matter what.'

'Yeah, but which part of humanity?' Joan said. 'We've only seen two separate factions since landing, the NCR and the Legion, with probably dozens more spread across the planet. They're all humans, so which do we protect?'

Scott opened his mouth to answer but closed it again when he couldn't think of a reply. Joan had a point. So far, they'd only encountered two different factions and from what Harris and a few of the other soldiers at the Mojave Outpost had said, there were many more spread across America. Which one should they join and which one should they consider an enemy?

Scott sat down. 'The NCR, I guess.' he said. 'They haven't given us reason to think they're hostile to us and from the looks of this city and their army, creating a new world and protecting their people are the top two priorities.'

'So the Legion is our enemy?' Jack said as he sat on a spare bed.

'Yes, Jack.' Scott said. 'It is.'

The CQC expert nodded. 'Eeyup.'

Claire glowered at him then turned to Scott. 'Alright, so until we figure out which scenario we're facing, alternate Earth or Insurrection remnants, what are we going to do?'

'Help the NCR.' Scott said. 'They have the supplies we need to survive until it becomes clear which Earth we're on. Once that's cleared up, we'll adjust our approach accordingly.' He turned to each member of Kilo in turn. 'If you have a problem with this, any concerns or issues, raise them and we'll try to deal with it.'

No one answered.

'Understood.' Scott said. he picked up his helmet and stared into the golden faceplate before setting it down again. 'We'll rotate sleeping shifts. One stays awake, three rest.'

'Don't you trust the NCR?' Claire asked.

'Not yet, no.' Scott admitted, unconsciously tapping the handle of his pistol. 'It's still too early to gauge what they want from us or if they'll try to pick apart our gear, given the chance. No. Until we've spent more time around them, I want at least one Spartan on watch. I'll take first shift.'

'But it's not even nine o'clock.' Jack pointed out.

'I know.' Scott said. 'I'm just telling you ahead of time.'

'Oh.' Jack said. 'So, what are we going to do until Colonel Moore comes to speak with us?'

'Check our gear.' Scott said.

Though they'd only been planetside for less than ten hours, it couldn't hurt to perform a spot check of their armour systems. The SPI armour was nowhere near as complicated or advanced then the MJOLNIR Mark IV issued to the SPARTAN-IIs but it was still susceptible to breaking down, in particular the cooling system. Kilo and the rest of Beta Company had found that it would fail after prolonged use.

ONI had issued Kilo with a modified variant, increasing the survivability of the cooling system due to the long duration of their original mission to recon Roost ahead of a larger Marine force.

Scott donned his helmet and ran his armour through a diagnostic, getting a bank of green lights flashing back at him. Kilo flashed their thumbs at him as they did the same then started on their weapons.

In total, they had twenty-four full magazines for their MA5Ks collectively just as many for their pistols. Not much, especially if they had to go through another battle without a resupply.

'I really hope the NCR can give us more ammo.' Joan said once they were done. 'I'd hate to use their guns.'

'Yes, we know.' Jack said. 'You kept muttering it at the Mojave Outpost and on the journey here.'

'And for good reason.' Joan said. 'Small round and magazine size, crude building materials, low accuracy, loud noise. Not quite what we'd need if we needed a replacement for these.' She patted her rifle. 'Our training did place emphasis on stealth, not direct assault.'

'We'll use whatever weapons we have to.' Scott said. 'Crude or not, the NCR's weapons are plentiful and must use a common ammo type to be their standard issue gun. These use a 7.62mm round. Unless the NCR has a ready supply of them or can alter their ammo presses to make it, we may have to consider alternatives.'

Joan grunted and sat down on her bed. 'I wouldn't be happy about that.'

'No one is asking you to.' Claire said. 'We wouldn't be, but at least we'd be able to carry out our mission.'

'There is that.' Joan said. 'I guess I could see about having them tweak it to be a bit more accurate.'

'That's the spirit.' Jack said. 'So long as it can kill, that's my motto.'

'Alongside eeyup, no doubt.' Scott said, grinning.

'Nope.' Jack said, drawing the word out. 'Not in my vocabulary.'

Scott and Joan smirked as Claire threw a pillow at Jack who picked the ragged item up and returned the favour.

'So, what's the plan for tomorrow?' Joan asked Scott as Claire and Jack kept tossing the pillow at each other.

'Speak with Colonel Moore and see about getting resupplied.' Scott brought out a spare magazine. 'We may have to give her one of these to make sure they get the fittings right.'

'And if she asks us to prove our combat capability?'

'We do just that.' Scott said. 'We're Spartans. Combat is in our bones.'

**0800 HOURS, MAY 25, 2545 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \ UNKNOWN SYSTEM, UNKNOWN PLANET \ NCR**

The sun was steadily rising in the late spring sky, bringing the temperature up and giving an oppressive sense to the desert air.

Scott made sure to keep his cooling system was working and that the polarisation on his helmet was too as he and Kilo crossed the courtyard to the main building, following the same soldier that had brought them food the night before to Colonel Moore's office.

Inside the head office, the air temperature was worse than it had been outside and many within the building were constantly dabbing away at sweat on their foreheads. Scott made doubly sure his armour was functioning correctly.

Moore was sat behind her desk, sifting through the file she'd brought in the day before. Her hair was matted by sweat and a jug of water sat on her desk, already three quarters gone.

'Thank you, Corporal.' Moore said once the Spartans were standing at ease before her. 'You're dismissed.'

'Ma'am.' The soldier said, snapping off a salute, then left.

Moore flicked through a page in her file then closed it and looked up at Kilo. 'We were never properly introduced. I told you who I was but you didn't.'

'Apologies, ma'am.' Scott said. 'I'm Petty Officer Second Class SPARTAN-B124. These are Petty Officers Third Class SPARTANS-B040, -B110 and –B299.' He nodded to Joan, Jack and Claire respectively who nodded their heads in greeting.

'No first names?' Moore said. 'Because I don't think I can remember or cope with calling you by those numbers.'

'No first names.' Scott said. The only people he felt comfortable calling him by his name were Kilo, no one else, and any other SPARTAN-III from Beta Company. Joan and the others felt the same way. It was a side effect of becoming such a close knit fighting force. They were his family. Non-Spartan personnel weren't.

'Okay.' Moore clasped her hands in front of her and leant forward. 'I've considered your proposal about helping us out and the way the Legion kicked our ass at the Dam, I'm ready to take in any soldiers I can get. Only problem is that I don't know what you can do.'

The Spartans glanced at each other.

'So, I've decided to put all four of you through the training program we put our troopers through.' Moore said. 'If you impress us, I'll think about upping the ante to the Ranger qualification course we have.'

'And our guns?' Scott said. 'We need ammo for them.'

'We have skilled gunsmiths who can supply the bullets and magazines you need. They just need an example.'

Scott produced a spare clip and placed it on the desk in front of Moore, followed by one for his pistol. 'Let's hope they are skilled.' He said. 'Now about those training regimes.'


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: ****I don't own Fallout or Halo. They belong to Bethesda and Bungie/Microsoft/343 Industries respectively.**

Chapter Six

**0930 HOURS, MAY 25, 2545 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \ UNKNOWN SYSTEM, UNKNOWN PLANET \ NCR**

Kilo stood in a line, looking out over an obstacle course that had dozens of recruits scrambling over it. There were rope swings, climbing walls, tunnels, barbed wire crawl spaces, muddy pits and a dirt track that ran the entire circumference of the assault course. Spread amongst the recruits were drill sergeants, screaming at the recruits to move faster or pick themselves up, in some cases physically striking them.

Kilo wasn't impressed.

'This is what they put their guys through?' Jack whispered over TEAMCOM.

'Apparently.' Claire said.

'Maybe it's just the place where their physical stamina is tested.' Joan said, nodding to a firing range on their left. 'Got a rifle range here. Who knows what else they have.'

Scott glanced at the range. It was basic, literally a series of stalls that soldiers stood in with a desk for their spare magazines and a target one hundred metres away set in front of a sand wall.

'This is just for their rank and file, not the special forces.' He said. 'These Rangers probably have a more challenging one. Somewhere.'

'Just not here.' Jack said as Moore and two drill sergeants approached. One of them held a clipboard and the other had a stopwatch.

'Thank you for joining us, Kilo.' Moore said, gesturing to the obstacle course. 'I've spoken with the range master to have it cleared ready for you to use without interruption.'

'Thank you, ma'am.' Scott said. 'Have you given that magazine to your gunsmiths?'

Moore nodded. 'They're looking it over as we speak. The Gun Runners are experts when it comes to guns but even they were surprised to see a 7.62mm round in the clip. We normally use them in our heavy machine guns.'

'So you have some?' Joan asked. '7.62mm?'

Moore nodded again.

Scott heard Joan give a sigh of relief over TEAMCOM. He rolled his eyes.

'Now, let's move onto why we're here.' Moore said, waving the two drill sergeants forward. 'I know Ranger Jackson and the troopers from the Mojave Outpost have spoken highly of your abilities but I want to see them for myself. Gentlemen?'

She stepped back and the two sergeants stepped forward.

'Alright, Kilo. This is the basic course we put our troopers through. Current record for completing it is four minutes, eight seconds with a full combat load and three minutes, forty nine seconds without.' The first said. 'We'll run you through it without guns then send you round again with what we give our soldiers. Okay?'

'Okay.' Scott said. 'I'll go first.'

The drill sergeant with the stopwatch led Scott to the start line and pulled out a tin whistle, waiting for Scott to position himself.

'On your marks, get set, go!' He blew a long note and clicked the stopwatch, activating the timer.

Scott blurred into motion, accelerating away from the line until he was going nearly thirty kilometres an hour, legs pumping as his breathing increased.

The first part of the obstacle course was a simple rope swing over a dusty pit. He didn't bother with the dangling rope, vaulting himself over the three metre wide hole and landed with a roll. Scott was back on his feet and heading towards the next obstacle before the dust had even settled.

It was a rope ladder, three metres wide and four high. The young Spartan scrambled up it then didn't bother with the descent, absorbing the impact with his knees as he leapt to the ground.

'_Try for two minutes_.' Jack said over TEAMCOM. '_Make me proud, boy.'_

'Who's squad leader?' Scott grunted as he tackled a knotted climbing rope. 'You should be the one making me proud when you do this thing in ninety seconds.'

Jack chuckled as Scott moved onto the bars at the top of the rope, dangling beneath them as he crossed over to an abseil rope. He slid to the bottom and sprinted for the next section, the crawling beneath barbed wire.

In the morning sun, Scott saw the glinting of spent brass cartridges. The drill sergeants must have fired live rounds next to the recruits as they squeezed themselves underneath the wire. He saw scraps of clothing caught on some of the barbs, blowing lazily in a light breeze.

Scott cleared the barbed wire and headed for the final part of the obstacle course, a hundred metre sprint over rough and rocky terrain.

The Spartan flew over it and came to a skidding halt in front of the drill sergeants, both of whom had their mouths open in amazement. Moore was stood behind them, a satisfied smile on her face.

'Time?' she asked.

'T-Two minutes, Colonel.' Stopwatch said as Clipboard made a note of the time. 'Two minutes flat.'

Moore's smile broadened. 'Well, Kilo. I think we might just have a place for you in the NCR Army after all.'

**1300 HOURS, MAY 25, 2545 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \ UNKNOWN SYSTEM, UNKNOWN PLANET \ NCR**

After Scott had run the obstacle course, the rest of Kilo took turns. They all managed similar times but the fastest was Claire who managed to go through everything in one minute, fifty-two seconds, even with a full combat load.

From there, they had visited the firing range where their marksmanship skills were tested.

Each Spartan produced near perfect scores with Joan coming out the victor, despite using the NCR's standard issue rifle.

Now they were once again stood within Moore's office, opposite her desk as she leafed through yet another file, this one bearing the title Kilo.

Scott guessed it was everything the NCR had gathered on them.

Moore turned the page then laid the file flat on the desk and clasped her hands together.

'You surprised me, Kilo.' She said after a moment's pause. 'Not even our Rangers have gotten scores like the ones you got today. My record has stood for fifteen years now and in one short morning, four unknowns made it look like I was standing still.'

'That was your time, ma'am?' Scott asked.

'Yes.' Moore said. 'So it gets me thinking. Where in the wasteland did you get that kind of training and physical conditioning? Brotherhood? Enclave?'

Scott shook his head. 'No, ma'am. We are not affiliated with those groups.'

'Some other pre-War organisation, then?'

'Close enough.' Scott said. They still hadn't determined the nature of the planet they were on, whether it was a rouge planet or a parallel Earth, so until they were sure, Kilo would conceal their affiliation with the UNSC.

Moore nodded slowly and made a note of it in her file.

'Tell me what you know about the Legion.' Moore said.

'They use knives and wear skirts.' Jack said.

'And the guns they do use are crap.' Joan added.

'That's it?' Moore said.

Scott nodded. 'Our interaction was minimal before joining your forces.'

'Then you haven't been in the Mojave Wasteland for too long.' Moore said, getting a second nod. 'Let me bring you up to speed.'

Over the next hour, Moore told Kilo everything on the Legion.

They were a slave army styled after the armies of ancient Rome, specifically those that Julius Caesar had led, and owned by a man who believed himself to be the Son of Mars and had adopted the name of Caesar. His army had expanded westward, forcibly assimilating over 86 tribes. The men who Caesar deemed fit enough were reconditioned to serve him, the women used to tend for the children and breed more soldiers, and the sick and elderly were killed off.

Leading his army of slaves was a man many called Lanius, a Legate if Caesar's Legion used the same terms as its historic counterpart, who was reportedly one of the most brutal the Legion had to offer. A close second was more of a rumour than an established fact.

Several soldiers within the NCR Army who had managed to escape the horrors of the Legion's advance had spoken of a woman appearing at NCR outposts and positions, outposts that had soon fallen silent and investigations into them revealed nothing more than dead bodies, some with lasers burns, most with bullet wounds in the centre of their heads.

They referred to her as the Courier in hushed whispers, someone who couldn't be killed and delivered death to those she visited. If the rumours were true, this Courier had literally risen from a shallow grave in a small town and walked the length and breadth of the Mojave searching for the man who had put her there.

'We believe she was contacted by Mr House, the ruler of New Vegas, and given a task that took her to Caesar's main base of operations.' Moore said.

Kilo was sat on wooden chairs two privates had brought in earlier and were listening with rapt attention.

'While there, she must have spoken with Caesar and become sympathetic to his cause because up to that point, the Courier's actions had benefitted the NCR in small ways.' Moore said. 'She got the HELIOS One solar power plant running again, took down the Powder Gangers and calmed relations down in a slum outside Vegas. After that, though, she became a ghost.'

'What did she do after meeting with Caesar?' Scott asked.

Moore sat back and blew out a long breath. 'What didn't she do? Bombing a monorail, wiping out several of our remote camps including one right next to Hoover Dam and an important strategic location. Even assassinating our president when he visited Hoover Dam. We also believe the Courier had a hand in Chief Hanlon's death.'

'Who?' Scott said.

'He is, or was, the leader of the Rangers, our special forces. With him gone, the Rangers, and the Army as a whole, has fallen on hard times.' Moore said, leaning forwards. The air temperature had risen dramatically and sweat was beaded on her head. She reached for the jug of water and went to pour herself a drink but it was empty. She put it down again. 'Which is where you come in.'

'Why do I not like the sound of that?' Joan whispered over a private COM channel.

Scott ignored her.

'What do you mean by that?' he said instead.

'The NCR public has gotten a very poor image of the Army and the Rangers and I want to reverse that.' Moore said. 'You already showed me what you can do today and Ranger Jackson told me about your performance at the Mojave Outpost, especially your armour's abilities.' Moore said, looking at each Spartan in turn. 'I know our original arrangement was for some help in exchange for supplies but I want to change that.'

'To what?'

'I want the four of you to be an advance force ahead of our main attack.'

Scott and Kilo glanced at each other uneasily.

'You're planning to take on the Legion after they pushed you out of the Mojave?' Scott said.

'Yes.' Moore said. 'It's going to take some time rally our forces and build our strength up but know this: the moment we are in a position to take back the Mojave, we are taking it. I want the four of you to go ahead of us and do whatever you can to undermine the Legion's strength in whatever way you see fit.

'We'll give you as much ammo as you can carry and whatever weapons you want.' Moore offered. 'It all depends on whether you say yes or not. I know it isn't part of our deal and I know you might not want to agree to it but please, if you don't then thousands of people will die needlessly and a barbaric dictator in charge of rapists and murderers will rule the wastelands.' She stood. 'I'll give some time to think it over.'

Moore left the office and shut the door behind her, leaving Kilo to look between themselves.

'Well?' Scott said.

'Starvation and no ammo versus taking on a bunch of savages?' Jack said first. 'Tough choice. Let me think about it.'

Claire shook her head at Jack and nodded at Scott. 'I'm in.'

'Me too.' Joan said. 'But I am going to have some very specific requirements over the guns they give us.'

'Understandable.' Scott said. 'So we're all in agreement?'

Claire and Joan nodded.

'Eeyup.' Jack said.

'Okay.' Scott said. 'No turning back from here on in. Time to take the fight to the Legion.'


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: ****I don't own Fallout or Halo. They belong to Bethesda and Bungie/Microsoft/343 Industries respectively.**

Chapter Seven

**0000 HOURS, JUNE 02, 2545 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \ SOL SYSTEM (ERROR/SOURCE UNRELIABLE), PLANET EARTH (ERROR/SOURCE UNRELIABLE) \ MOJAVE WASTELAND**

The moon was high in the sky, casting a brilliant white light over a bleak brown landscape, and there was barely a cloud to block it from view. It gave the Mojave Wasteland an ethereal feel, the silence and crumbling hulks of once proud buildings giving the impression of death.

Kilo moved through it quickly and silently, their SPI armour making them invisible in the low light.

They all clutched their MA5Ks, now fully loaded with twenty spare magazines. The NCR's gunsmiths had done an amazing job replicating the clips in such a short time and in such numbers, filling half of them with hollow point ammunition and the other half with full metal jackets. Considering the Legion's lack of decent armour, either round would be more than enough if only because of the large size.

As well as ammunition, the NCR had provided Kilo with whatever guns they wanted. This amounted to a silenced sniper rifle for Joan and a pump action shotgun for Jack. Both of which had been modified. Joan's rifle had been equipped with a suppressor to muffle the noise when fired and most of the parts swapped for carbon fibre, making the gun a few pounds lighter to compensate for the heavier, more robust internal mechanisms Joan had insisted on to keep the rifle operating for prolonged periods of time. On top of this, a more powerful scope that had night vision was in place over the original and Joan had spent the best part of a day getting it zeroed to her exacting standards.

Jack, on the other hand, was content with having his shotgun's ammo capacity increased from five shells to eight.

Both Spartans had taken some time selecting the ammunition they would use for their mission.

For her sniper rifle, Joan went with jacketed soft point bullets, a middle ground between armour piercing and hollow points. The bullets had a partial coating that allowed them to break through the first layer of armour but once they were through, the jacket surrounding it would break away and allow the round to expand, tearing through flesh and bone. Their only downside was that with the round having part of the soft inner exposed, it would lead to a quicker fouling of the barrel as lead would be stripped from the round as it travelled down the barrel and clog up the rifling, leading to worse bullet control.

The ammo loadout Jack went with was more varied, but only just. He had selected a few rounds that were labelled as dragon's breath, shells filled with a small pyrotechnic charge that burned the target upon impact, and four shells containing tiny darts instead of pellets, flechette rounds that tore through lightly armoured foes.

Scott and Claire stayed with just their MA5Ks, neither Spartan seeing the need for loud weapons when their mode of operation required stealth and silence, though several pounds of C4 were stashed in their packs. Just in case.

'How's the rifle?' Scott asked over TEAMCOM as Kilo passed by an old police highway station on the road, the rusted hulk of two cars and several skeletons just outside it.

'Okay, I guess.' Joan muttered. 'Calibre is smaller than what I'm used to and the scope doesn't have an auto zoom, but like you said. Ammo will be plentiful.'

'And you, Jack?' Scott said to the CQC expert of Kilo. 'Is your new toy good?'

'Eeyup.' Jack said. 'Though Joan has a point. Calibre isn't the same as an M90.'

'It's three millimetres smaller.' Claire said. 'I don't think it makes that much of a difference. Besides, so long as it can kill. Right?'

Jack nodded. 'So long as it can kill.'

Ahead loomed the small town of Primm, the closest population centre to the Mojave Outpost that the Legion would have most likely taken over. Scott remembered that is was the same one Kilo had passed on their way to help out the NCR at the Outpost. It had been filled with legionnaires then and as Kilo drew closer, they saw that over the past week it had been turned into fortified location.

The first mission Moore had given to them was to scout the immediate area around the Mojave Outpost, including all major towns and villages, do what they could to disrupt the Legion's grip on the region, then hold for new orders after relaying what they had seen.

So Kilo had slipped past the Legion front line holding position just a few hundred metres from the Mojave Outpost, using a sudden and orchestrated firefight as a diversion, allowing them to move unnoticed and allowing the NCR a chance to take out some legionnaires ahead of the main attack.

And now, with Primm in sight and their guns filled with ammo, it was time for Kilo to uphold their end of the deal with Moore and the NCR.

'Joan, find a suitable position to cover us from.' Scott said, scanning the terrain. He spotted a water tower to his right. It was perched on top of a hill and offered a commanding view of the area. 'That structure there. We'll wait for you to get ready.'

'On it.' Joan said. She swapped her assault rifle for the sniper rifle and sprinted for the tower, vanishing from sight in seconds.

When she was gone, Scott motioned the rest of Kilo forward, rifles drawn.

Moore wanted solid intel, not just observations from afar. That meant getting written reports, real data to work with. That meant Kilo would have to go _into _the camp itself to get it.

'_Kilo-3, in position.'_ Joan whispered over TEAMCOM. '_I have eyes on twenty plus foot mobiles, walking the perimeter in pairs. Two possible entry points, one to my two o'clock and another to my ten. Both lightly guarded. I count no more than three guards on each.'_

Scott, Claire and Jack came to a halt behind a ledge that overlooked a small enclosed cul-de-sac that had six dilapidated houses running along a cracked street.

'Which do the roving guards go near the most?' Scott said, taking in as much of Primm as he could.

There were two buildings still standing, a casino and a hotel, while ramshackle shacks and a partially destroyed row of houses made up the remainder of the town's total structures. Spread out in and around them were flaming barrels, casting flickering orange light that tried to beat back the night. The legionnaires walked between them, occasionally stopping by the flames to warm their hands. He memorised the street plan.

'_Two o'clock.'_

'Any idea which building is the command centre?'

'_Negative. Could be either of the two big ones.'_

'Understood.' Scott said. He looked over Primm again.

They could infiltrate the town right now easily enough, throw a rope over the brick wall and scale it or loop around to the north and slip through a crack in the ancient fence there, but getting the information Moore needed was another matter entirely.

Primm contained an unknown number of soldiers of an unknown calibre with the information Kilo needed to get in an as yet unknown place. The risk of being found out would rise with each passing moment and charging blindly into the camp would increase that risk tenfold.

'Joan, stay here and keep an eye on Primm. Radio if anything happens.' Scott said after a moment's consideration. 'The rest of you, we'll make camp in the mountains to the east of here. If we're going in, we're going in well informed. Rotate watches for the next three days, every six hours.'

Three green lights winked back at Scott.

He swept his gaze over the Legion controlled town one last time, noting all the fortifications, chokepoints, and entry and exit points, before leading Claire and Jack into the hills to the east of Primm.

**1136 HOURS, JUNE 05, 2545 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \ SOL SYSTEM (ERROR/SOURCE UNRELIABLE),PLANET EARTH (ERROR/SOURCE UNRELIABLE) \ MOJAVE WASTELAND**

'_Kilo-1, Kilo-3.' _Joan radioed. _'Counting twenty hostiles in the area, all foot mobile, and six stationary on the two southern entrances. Patrol patterns and awareness suggest enemy forces have grown complacent. They aren't trying too hard._

'Understood.' Scott said. He waved Claire and Jack to follow him down to the cul-de-sac that was south of Primm, sticking to the shadows to avoid the searching eyes of the legionnaires stationed near the eastern entrance.

Once they were in and out of sight, the three Spartans climbed up onto the roof of a house close to the wall separating the houses from Primm and leapt for the top of it, landing atop the ancient brick structure with barely a sound.

Jack brought out a coiled rope and attached a hook to one end, attaching it to a crevice in the brick work, then threw the loose rope to the floor when he was sure there wasn't anyone around.

One after the other, the Spartans descended the rope and brought their guns up, ready.

'_Kilo-1, be advised. I cannot cover you from there.' _Joan said as Kilo moved through the rubble of a destroyed house towards the Vikki and Vance Casino, the command centre for the Legion forces in the area.

Observations over the last few days had revealed runners coming from the north and south who went into the building before appearing minutes later and going back the way they had come, sometimes clutching scrolls of paper. Kilo had also seen legionnaires coming from the Bison Steve Hotel opposite the casino in the morning and returning once it got dark, suggesting the derelict hotel was accommodations for everyone.

'Acknowledged.' Scott answered. 'Kilo, move out.'

They came out of the rubble onto a street, devoid of life and movement. All the Legion members were patrolling the outer perimeter of Primm, not the inner, expecting an attack from the NCR or some other faction.

They weren't expecting a small, well trained and well equipped team to infiltrate their camp in the dead of night.

Kilo swept the street for danger then scurried to the casino wall, crouching low and moving slowly.

A two man patrol appeared around the corner of the building, lazily walking in the middle of the street and chatting amongst themselves, completely unaware of the three hidden Spartans not two metres away, their movements being tracked by suppressed rifles.

Scott waited until they were gone then continued to the objective, pausing outside the double doors leading inside.

'Kilo-4, wait here and keep an eye out for legionnaires coming our way.' Scott said. 'Kilo-2, with me.'

He pressed his ear against the crack in the door and listened hard for sounds of movement or inhabitation, boosting his armour's aural sensors.

Nothing.

He held his rifle in one hand and pushed the door open with his other, slowly at first to check there was no one inside, then quicker once he was sure it was clear.

Claire followed him in as Jack crouched behind a little alcove and a bin, a lookout.

Inside the casino, Scott saw it had been crudely turned into a command centre of sorts. Tables that had once held roulette wheels were replaced with larger variants bearing maps of the area and the slot machines had been removed, making way for banners bearing a yellow bull on a crimson red background. Dotted around were more barrels filled with flames, illuminating the interior of the casino with the same orange glow that gave the inside the impression of being a cave in the depths of Hell.

'Start searching.' Scott whispered. 'Anything that looks important or can be taken with us easily.'

'Got it.' Claire whispered back.

The two Spartans spent the next fifteen minutes searching through the masses of papers, finding nothing but observations and musings from the commanding officer on the Mojave Outpost, and progress reports on the influx and reconditioning of something called 'captures' which Scott assumed meant people captured by the Legion to serve in their army.

He was flicking through a notebook when Claire raised her voice.

'Got something.' She said, holding up a leather bound book. 'Looks like orders from high command for everyone in the region detailing their long term plans ahead of continued combat operations against the NCR. Think this is what Moore was after?'

'Maybe.' Scott said. 'We'll take it with us, just to be sure. Everything else here isn't worth taking, anyway.' He reached for his pack and withdrew the four pounds of C4 he'd brought with him. 'Now, our orders were to disrupt the Legion as we see fit, right?'

Claire nodded, pulling out her own stash of the plastic explosive. 'They were.'

Scott tossed Claire his blocks and headed for one of the barrels. 'I'm going to get their attention. You and Jack should set the welcome mat for them.'

'Understood.'

**1158 HOURS, JUNE 05, 2545 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \ SOL SYSTEM (ERROR/SOURCE UNRELIABLE), PLANET EARTH (ERROR/SOURCE UNRELIABLE) \ MOJAVE WASTELAND**

Scott stayed crouched in the shadows, motionless, as he kept an eye on the stretch of road between the Bison Steve Hotel and the Vikki and Vance Casino.

Claire and Jack were positioned in places where they had good concealment and a clear view of the open area as well, rifles tucked firmly against their shoulders. Between them, they had the entire area covered and turned into a kill zone with Joan providing long range fire support. All of them were waiting for the legionnaires to come out of the hotel and head for the casino.

'_Eyes on a patrol.' _Claire warned over TEAMCOM. '_Heading this way.'_

'_Think they'll see it?' _Jack asked.

'If they don't, they'll smell it.' Scott said. 'Just wait for my order.'

As if on cue, two legionnaires came into view and began heading south to the eastern entrance by the cul-de-sac. They got part way when one stopped and began sniffing the air, frowning.

His partner stopped as well, a frown forming on his face too as he sniffed the air.

'_Got 'em.' _Jack whispered.

Both men turned in alarm to the casino, shouting out loud when they saw wisps of black smoke seeping from the cracks in the door.

After they had secured the ledger, Kilo had prepared a trap for the Legion. While Claire and Jack were hiding the bricks of C4 along the path between the hotel and casino, Scott had dragged one of the burning barrels over to a table and tipped the contents onto the floor, adding papers to it until the flame was really going and crackling then retreated outside to take up a position where he and the rest of Kilo could open fire into the Legion troops as they came out to either tackle the fire or just gawp at it.

Well, those that weren't torn apart by the explosions of the C4 Jack and Claire had hidden.

As the men continued to shout about the fire, those at the guard posts scrambled to see what the commotion was, arriving just as flames began licking the outer edges of the door. One ran to them to throw them open while another went into the Bison Steve, rousing the slumbering legionnaires to help.

There were no ground floor windows for the fire to escape out of and as the legionnaire who had gone to open the doors threw them wide, he was sucked into the casino by the fire as it drew in oxygen to sustain itself.

Scott cast his gaze upwards at the windows located there, nodding to himself when he saw an orange glow appear behind them. The fire was growing and soon it would engulf the casino. With any luck, a stray ember would drift from it to the hotel and ignite the structure, too.

The chances were low, though, as there was a westerly wind and any sparks thrown up by the casino fire were taken away from Primm to the empty wasteland.

'Jack, once most of the legionnaires are out of the hotel, I want you to go in and torch it.' Scott ordered. A green light winked back.

By now, dozens of legionnaires were outside, some pointing at the casino as it was steadily consumed by fire, others were running around frantically, unsure of what to do.

More importantly, they were all within the reach of the explosives Kilo had hidden.

Scott brought up the detonator. 'Wait for the signal.' He said.

He depressed the trigger and the small device gave off a faint click as it transmitted the activation signal to the explosives.

There were eight pounds of C4 packed into the street, distributed as evenly as Kilo could manage and hidden from view. It was more than enough to punch through even the armour plating on a frigate. On soft targets like the legionnaires, it would reduce them to paste.

When Scott sent the activation signal, the three dozen or so men stood in front of the casino seemed to vanish, replaced by a massive plume of dust and concrete slivers that swept towards to the concealed members of Kilo, followed almost simultaneously by a huge shockwave that deafened Scott and threw him backwards.

He recovered and brought his MA5K to bear on where the men had been stood, seeing only a vague crater and the remains of a few legionnaires.

He shook his head clear.

'Audio check.' Scott whispered over TEAMCOM, getting three green lights back. No one had been deafened by the blast.

'_Kilo-1, I've got eyes on three hostiles, coming in from the north.' _Joan radioed. '_Permission to engage.'_

'Granted.' Scott said. 'Kilo-4, burn the hotel. Kilo-2, with me.'

The Vikki and Vance Casino was really going now. The shockwave from the C4 had broken every remaining window, allowing even more oxygen to be sucked into the inferno. Smoke billowed from the open frames, too, almost invisible against the cloudy night sky.

'_Targets engaged.' _Joan said. '_Targets down.'_

Her suppressor worked. Scott didn't hear any of the three shots Joan had fired.

'She's burning.' Jack said, emerging from the Bison Steve, a flaming stick on one hand while the other held a half empty bottle of alcohol.

'That was quick.' Scott said.

'It's old.' Jack replied, throwing both items to the ground. 'The wood has been through two hundred plus years of high heat, low humidity, and poor maintenance. I'm surprised she hasn't already burned down.'

From inside the hotel, a growing orange glow appeared as smoke rolled past Jack's legs into the night time air. Screams followed shortly after.

'And that's our cue.' Scott said. 'Kilo, fall back to the camp. We'll radio Moore and tell what happened, then wait for new orders.'

Green lights burned back at him and the four Spartans retreated back to their encampment as Primm continued to burn, the first town in Legion control to be visited by them and the first to be wiped out.


End file.
